


Burning

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Series: Mac/Renny [7]
Category: Dark Visions - L. J. Smith
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M, Out of Body Experiences, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-31
Updated: 2005-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:43:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renny misses Mac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place while the psychic psychos are being held at the mansion, before the books. What's life like when you're just an experiment?

Renny reached out from his bed, the tips of his fingers just barely catching the sunlight. It was leaf-dappled, more grey than yellow, and held no warmth. He moved his fingers around, watching the play of wavering leaves across his skin, the glittering of his nails. He could remember falling asleep at a beach once, and waking with a terrible burn across his back. He could remember that he used to like the sunlight, before he had learned to prefer the burn.

The overhead lights, tightly recessed in shatter-proof plastic, snapped to life, obliterating the hazy ray of natural sunlight escaping in through the window. Renny let his hand drop, no longer finding the strength to hold it up.

The door came open carefully, revealing a skinny kid Renny thought he might have known. He squinted against the light, but even that bit of strength was too much effort, and he let the bulbs sear a red-tinged mark against his bare eyes.

Where were his glasses?

The skinny kid edged closer, the blur of his face twitching from Renny to the door and back to Renny. There was a hollow thump as a tray of plastic utensils, uselessly dulled, and harmless food was placed on the padded floor by Renny's bed. Renny barely breathed as the kid backed out quickly, peering through the wired window before he locked it tight.

The lights remained on, telling Renny that it was day. That the tray held his breakfast. That he should get up, eat, and prepare for another day of testing.

Mr. Zetes didn't take kindly to lazy children. When he wasn't happy...

Renny blinked, his dry eyes screaming at the rasping movement of his lids. It was an effort to make his lungs move, to breathe deep and get his body moving. His hands shook as he pushed himself up, wiggled around, and finally forced himself onto his side. His skin came away from the soft-padded bare mattress with a slick stickiness of sweat. One hand flopped down over the edge of the elevated bed/platform, nudging against the nearby tray.

It was enough, for now. Whatever energy he'd been able to build up over night was expended, and he lay gasping for air that was almost too much trouble to fight for. But he kept fighting, kept breathing, because if he didn't...

If he didn't, and Mr. Zetes found him dead, then he'd never be able to use the crystal again. And then he'd be stuck here, in this room--near enough to feel its energy but not nearly close enough to tap into it--tortured, forever.

It was a thirst that never went away, a hunger that devoured his strength, a pain that tore the very soul from his body and sucked his life from his veins. Being connected to the crystal, even for a moment, was like being in the middle of a short circuit. Things moved at a frantic pace. Energy pouring through unchecked. When the power was cut off, it left nothing but burnt wiring and drained batteries behind. Everything was used up and worthless.

The only cure was to touch the crystal again, or find another source of power.

Renny's hand swung of its own accord, back and forth, teasing the tips of his fingers against the smooth plastic of the tray. In this room, there was no such cure, no energy to borrow from. No hope but to survive long enough until Mr. Zetes decided it was time.

Without much thought, Renny slid his hand over the contents of the tray. A short cup, dull-rimmed and weightless, filled with thick, pulpy orange juice. Dried toast, a pat of butter. Flattened eggs that squished liquidly under his probing fingers, spilling over his skin. Renny brought his fingers to his mouth, licking off the runny yolk without much interest in the taste.

The orange juice helped a little, making it easier to breathe through his parched throat. The sugary liquid coursed through his body, making his head throb and his vision blur, but now he had the strength to press his palms against his lids and block out the light. He pressed until he could see the dappled sunlight against his fingers.

***

The skinny kid returned, marking mid-day. He was not happy that only the juice was gone, but he smiled a little at seeing Renny sitting up. At least, he thought it was a smile--the gleaming of something wet and white through an uneven hole broken in a blurred face. The tray was replaced, hastily switched with a full platter that bumped against Renny's foot, splashing something wet and cool over his bare skin. The plastic dishes clattered as the kid rushed out of the room, his face a dark smudge of blood against the little window.

The soup wasn't even hot. He missed steam fogging his glasses, biting at his lips, staining his tongue... but it required no effort to fall, unharmed, to the shapeless ground, to open his mouth and swallow tepid, tasteless liquid. Not even the caustic burn of salt or spice.

As though he would find a way to harm someone with such simple weapons.

***

The skinny kid was not happy to see Renny standing, staring out the door's window, when he returned. He backed away from the door, then hurried back down the corridor, without leaving the tray behind. Renny pressed his face to the glass, watching, wondering where his glasses had gone as he stared into the fogged blur of the wired window.

He returned with a dark smudge of a woman, short and rounded and pushing him forward as she swung the keys like a weapon. She barked something through the glass. It made Renny laugh, though he couldn't tell what the words were.

Her face darkened as she grew louder, then she backed off. Renny caught sight of movement against the white across the hall, a blur of a face in the door's window, and froze. Then he was falling back onto the padded ground, the door slamming against his foot as it finished swinging open. The woman stood over him, looking as though she was ready to beat him simply for standing. The skinny kid barely hung in the doorway, bending over the threshold to slide the tray inside before falling back out the door. The woman didn't turn her back on Renny, didn't look away as she closed the door and locked it again.

She didn't even notice that an extra plastic knife had fallen out of the skinny kid's pocket. It gleamed like broken bone against the flat plastic floor.

***

There weren't many places to hid things in the room, but no one ever came near him unless it was a special day, a testing day, when he needed to be awake and clean and dressed and behaved. He pressed the knife to his chest, sprawled out on the bed, and pretended to be comatose when the kid came to pick up his tray. He listened as the plastic rattled around, a quick check to make sure everything was there, was eaten. Renny felt eyes on his back, staring, and then the door locked. The lights clicked, bringing night.

Renny could still feel the eyes.

Slowly, he rolled over, staring off into the darkness of the room. He could feel hunger in the room, a hunger that was not his own but that he knew just as intimately. His skin was seared by it.

Silently, Renny sat up, his feet hitting the floor with soft pats of flesh. He stood, stretching out, holding the pathetic plastic knife in one hand. The thin shapeless pants slid down his hips, and he let them cling low, enjoying the feel of the watching darkness against as much skin as possible.

The hall was empty as he pressed his face to the window, staring out. The room was dark across the hall, as they all were, but he could just make out a darkness against the glittering glass. Someone was at the window.

Not that it mattered. Someone was in the room, too.

Renny stepped back. He could feel a sweep of coolness against his toes, then his lips, then a ghost of a sigh against the back of his neck. He bowed his head, revealing his nape, teasing the gathering shadows. The thin plastic knife was light in his hands, not even the cutting edge sharp enough to tear as he gripped it hard. With a twist of his wrists, the plastic snapped in two.

The air quivered, breathing against his fingers, waiting. Renny wrapped his arms across his chest, pressing his fists into his biceps, feeling the sharp sting of the newly ragged shards as they began to bite into his skin.

Already, Renny's mind was coming to life. He could feel the energy pour like the dregs of juice spilling from an empty cup. It wasn't quite like the Crystal, but they'd long ago discovered that it was almost as good.

Renny flexed, stabbing deep even as he dropped his arms in a quick, downward slice. Bright ribbons of pain opened down his arms, his chest, his stomach, even the back of one hand. They weren't deep, not how he liked it, but blood still boiled from the wounds, running down his skin in hot, fluid lines. He dropped the shards to run his fingers through the wetness, press his nails into the cuts and watch the shadows glitter and dance across his skin. He could think, now. He could feel. And everything was gloriously alive.

The darkness folded around him, growing strong, feeding off him. He ran his hands over his bleeding stomach, feeling the old scars, the new lines of fire, the growing need. His fingers just barely dipped under the low waist of his pants, just a tease. It was good... but not enough. Not nearly...

Renny could almost feel hands over his own as he reached down for a shard, the long of the two, the sturdier. Its edges were ragged, bloodied. He held it close to his face to see, to smell the coppery scent of his own blood slowly filling his senses. Then he brought the edge to the wound on his arm, pressing into it. It awoke, crying new tears as he sawed, his head falling back, moaning as everything became clear.

The lights were blinding, like sunspots exploding across his retinas.

"I told you he stole--"

"Get it out of his hand!"

"I'm not touching him--"

"--out of here!"

"Zetes is going to kill me--"

"We have to stop the bleeding."

Soft hands shook Renny, tore the shard out of his grip. He closed his eyes as hands gripped his upper arms, pressing salt-sweat into the wounds and making his body hum. He waited for it, waited for the real lips against his neck, but he was being dragged from the room. His feet moved enough to stay upright, but he was hardly walking.

"What are we going to tell him?"

"Nothing. He doesn't have to know. A few more scars... The kid's covered in them."

The lights were on everywhere. Renny could see the blur of faces watching him. As they passed, he pressed his hand against Mac's window, leaving a ruby smear across the glass. He could feel the eyes following him, all the way to the makeshift infirmary.


End file.
